Formless Shadow
by kylesev
Summary: A series of short stories. following the Formless Shadow Primaris chapter as they attempt to survive and liberate the Wyvern Sector from Chaos control. This is my first attempt at writing 40k so please feel free to give C&C.
1. The Light in the Darkness

When I was a child, I was scared of the dark. Even after all this time I still remember that. The constant, animal fear that something was within the shadows waiting to devour me. I would find myself staring up at the night sky, imagining that great void of darkness and the madness that must take over man to want to traverse it.

I had grown up on stories of the emperors angels, how the emperor sent them to places where his children needed them most, to protect us and keep us safe from the evils that would overwhelm us if given the chance.

When I asked my mother why angels of such splendor would willingly enter the darkness of space, she had told me. "The darkness is the place light is needed most, they are our protectors from the monsters. They are the tiny individual candles that form a bonfire that protects us from the night."

She had died a year after telling me that, as we tried to flee from marauders with strange tattoos on their skin and horrific mutations that make my fists clench in disgust even now. Those monsters had hunted our tribe for years after, my fear of the dark subsiding for the all to real fear of man. I had just reached my thirteenth year when I saw my first angel.

As the men and women did what they could to fight off a near endless horde of mutated monstrosities, as I did my best to stay strong as I clasped my stone spear in hand, that they arrived. A series of lights shot throughout the light and an earth shattering crash echoed throughout the world itself. One of them landed within the horde itself and I had to climb onto a nearby roof to see them, but I did.

Giants of obsidian and crimson, their armour as black as night except for their arms and legs, which were streaked with a red paint that looked like they had already been through a battle. Their pauldrons were black, with a grey swirl that consistently shifted and changed shape. And when they began to kill the mutant horde, it was like watching men walk through a river, undeterred by the water, entirely in control.

It was then that I knew I would become one, or die in the attempt. I knew it in my very soul that I would one day wear that armour, that I would bring salvation to the children of the emperor. And now as I finally wear that armour as a newly anointed battle brother of the Formless Shadow chapter, I remember that desire above everything else.

The desire to be the light within the dark.


	2. The first of many

Vandikus stared up at the night sky, not for the first time wondering what had become of the rest of his chapter, where in this Emperor cursed system they had been forced to flee to like he had.

The Formless Shadow chapter had been sent to secure the Wyvern sector for the imperium, it being one of many such sectors to have been lost during the opening of the great rift, and one of just as many to be reclaimed under the leadership of Lord Gulliman.

Due to the expediance needed for such a task, the larger crusade fleet had given leave to the chapter master of the Formless Shadow to make their way to the Wyvern sector alone, the plan being to do reconnaissance and link up with any remaining loyalist forces in order to take stock of the situation.

Some amongst Vandikus' battle brothers had whispered of hubris at this decision, believing that Chapter Master Casindro desired to prove himself worthy of his new command, and to etch this newly formed primaris chapter into the annals of history with a swift, and speedy recovery. Even if such rumours had any truth to them, the chaos ambush that awaited them when they got out of the warp soon put a stop to any plans for a speedy recovery.

When he closed his eyes, Vandikus could still see them, the dozen or so abominable crafts that set upon their meager fleet with an eager frenzy of hunting animals finally allowed off their chain. It had been all they could do just to escape, following their lords orders to disengage and fade into the sectors darkness. They would follow the commandment of their genesire, Corvus Corax, attack, withdraw, attack again.

As he turned to look at Ramus, Trakinus and Justinius, the three remaining battle brothers from his original squad of ten, he couldn't help but feel the fury at those events taking hold of his heart.

The entirety of the third company had been aboard the _Pallid Hope _when it had been forced to enter the planet of Beornwof, there they had evacuated via drop pods with plans to reconnect and make a plan upon their entry.

That had been over two weeks ago according to his helmets cronomitor, and in that time the other six of their original squad, including their sergent, had been killed by wanding bands of foul chaos worshippers and traitor marines that inhabited this jungle planet. At almost every step they had been harried by this force, the primaris marines training and armaments keeping them alive, but slowly their numbers had been chipped away, all without any sign of the remainder of their company.

What had once been shiny black armour which Vandikus has worn with pride was now badly scarred and marked, the outward appearance on all of the surviving marines armour ugly and wort. They were lucky their inward mechanisms were still in working order.

Each of the marines were wearing their chapters colours, black armour with red hands that moved up the arms to eventually melt into the black armour. Their Pauldrons black except for a grey blot that moved and shifted ceaselessly due to a special material that had been blessed upon their chapter.

It was in this rare moment of respite that the four marines took stock of what ammunition and weaponry they had left.

"Four magazines for each of our bolt rifles" Said Ramus, tossing two magazines to Vandikus as he walked to regroup with the others. "An assortment of grenades we were able to scrounge from the traitors, and our combat knives. That is what we have left brothers, either we find some way to restock or we're going to be killing these fools with our bare hands soon enough."

"I wouldn't complain at that" Said Justinius as he stared into the cracked lens of his helmet, turning it over in his hands as if trying to will it fixed. "Never a bad day when I'm able to wrap my hands around a traitor's throat"

"Quiet!" Barked Trakinus who had been attempting to gain acess to the enemys communication frequency since the last battle ended. He keyed the rest of the squad to the frequency and they all listened intently.

"... engaged! Repeat, the corpse worshippers have fortified the ruined cathedral at the following coordinates" A long string of numbers followed that were instantly filed away inside the marines eidetic memory "They have already killed hundreds of us and Master Balath has ordered all nearby forces to assist us in snuffing them out"

"How far away from those coordinates are we?" Demanded Vandikus.

"It was a local transmission, couldn't have been more than an hours walk from here." Said Trakinus as he looked over the paper map they had been able to acquire from one of their many would be purserers. He poured over its contents until he jabbed his finger down at a marker on the map. The cathedral of "The Emperor's wraith" stood bold in what must have once been a holy site for the planets loyalist ancestors.

Vandikus needed no further information, going through the mental checkups of arms and armour status that had been drilled into his head since he was a neophyte. His three brothers were doing the same, Justinius slamming his helm into place. It mattered not that in the state they were in they'd be lucky to even survive the journey. Their brothers required aid, there was no question on what they would do.

* * *

Vandikus' internal chronometer informed him that it had taken them an hour to reach the site of the battle and it honestly surprised him that they had not heard the fighting from where they started. While there appeared to be a lull in the fighting, the ravaged cathedral to the emperor looked like it was drenched in blood from the repulsed besigers. The grounds themselves were covered in a field of the dead and dying, heretical workshippers, abominations and traitor marines lay amongst the filth and gore. The marines could not help but appreciate the appropriate end to their miserable lives.

The squad had split up, each one looking at the field and taking stock of the traitor forces. Over a hundred sniveling cultists all clutching primative weapons of wood and bone with the odd lucky soul clutching a lasgun jealousy. In the scant few minutes since he had arrived, Vandikus had seen several cultists get bludgeoned to death for their ranged weapon, perhaps believing the weapon would give them a better chance of surviving the slaughter.

It didn't.

Sending waves of expendable mortals to a position was a well known chaos tactic, one that was as famous as it was effective. Even a million ants can cause serious damage if left unattended. But it was their masters that sent a chill down the marines spine. Approximately two dozen marines were settled in positions around the cathedral, corralling the cultists and hurling insults across the open vox. The two squads were content to insult everything within the area, both loyalist and rival marines were not safe from the bile that was thrown.

At the center of this parade of butchery, there stood a horrific sight that sent the hair on the loyalists neck rigid. A night lord marine wearing a leathery cloak that looked like it was sewn together from hundreds of patches, each patch having the sign of the aquila tattooed on its center. It was with a sickening curse that Vandikus realized it was a cloak made up from flayed skin of loyalist planetary defence forces.

They could see him carving into a fallen space marine, cutting up the marines flesh in order to add its tattooed form to his macabre suit. Seeing this sacrilege almost made the loyalists charge down and destroy that traitor now, his fists clenched with the desire to dive his knife through the filths armour and stop his desecration. Through the vox he could hear his brother Justinius grinding his teeth in anger and Trakinus and Ramus were radiating anger. Despite this however, Vandikus did not move, and out of the corner of his eye he saw that his brothers ruins did not move. The traitors would have their reckoning soon enough.

Across the two dozen the loyalists took note of their heavy weaponry. Two heavy bolters, a missile launcher and a plasma cannon were laid out in firing positions, each of them behind heavy barricades and protected from all fire that could come from the cathedral.

"This has to be a trap" said Trakinus over their private vox, using the Formless Shadow clipped battle cant.

Vandikus couldn't help but agree, the traitors had left almost no rearguard to speak of, all of their attention were focused on the cathedral and even then the threat was not taken seriously. This was not a threat that they would behead and be done with. This was a cruelty of bleeding a believed crippled animal.

"They believe they have already won" Growled Justinius.

"Let us prove them wrong." Said Vandikus, putting the plasma cannon user in his sights as he spoke. "I have the plasma, Ramus and Trakinus take the missiles, Justinius…"

"I have the heavy bolter brother, just give me the word" Said Justinius viciously.

"Once our targets are down focus fire upon the other traitors. When I give the word, move down with me and kill them swiftly. Use grenades and ammunition sparingly, I'll try to make contact with the loyalist in the cathedral so they can join their wraith to ours. Confirm targets" Vandikus said, crouching down and readying his bolt rifle, his sights placed on the traitor, one squeeze would be all it required.

"Target confirmed"

"Target confirmed"

"Target confirmed brother."

"Mark" That word was punctuated by the boom of four bolts leaving their respective rifles in perfect synchrony, the traitors heads exploding in a spray of gore and the heretics scurrying in confusion to seek cover. In the time it took for the traitors to respond four more heads exploded to the ambush, and Vandikus took cover behind a tree and brought his hand to his vox.

"This is battle brother Vandikus of the Third Company, Formless Shadow chapter, we have engaged your besigers and request your support in cleansing their filth."

"Not a moment too soon brother. This is brother Leonsus of the Third Company, most of our squad has been slain. But we will join what fire we have with yours" Bolter fire came from three of the windows in the cathedral, slaying a dozen cultists in their first few seconds alone.

The traitor forces were in complete disarray, what had been toying with a dying animal was now an ambush where they found themselves trapped by fire on both sides. The loyalists could stay where they would and slowly pick the traitors off, but the same vox which had drawn Vandikus and his brothers would no doubt be drawing traitors who wanted to join the fun. They had to slay their foes swiftly and escape from this place, it was with this in mind that Vandikus gave the order to press forward. They would use the enemies shock and disarray to kill them before they can take up defensive positions.

"To me, my brothers! Avenge the fallen!" Vandikus cried over open vox, picking up his bolt rifle and charging through the forest they had set up positions in. HIs helmet display showed his brothers battle runes following alongside him and with every step they took, another cultist fell to their fire. The traitor marines were much tougher foes, laying down suppressive fire and pushing their mortal followers out of cover in order to set up what meager defences they could.

Maglocking his bolt rifle to his waist, Vandikus charged forward with his knife drawn, borrowing into the first traitor he met and putting all his moment into driving the knife though the traitors armpit joint, pushing deep and tearing it away. The traitor marines now useless arm dropped his own bolter as he attempted to use the other to scramble for his own knife. Not giving him the chance, Vandikus drove the knife into his neck and sawed deep, slicing it away and jabbing it into the wound again for good measure. All of this took place in a few scant seconds.

Pulling his knife away he quickly took stock of the world around him. Trakinus had lost his knife and was dodging a chainblades maw, striking out with his fists when he could.

Ramus was in the process of picking up the traitors heavy bolter, a second traitor marine collapsing to the ground with Ramus' knife jutting out of his eye lense.

And as for Justinius, he had managed to get his hands on a traitor's chain glaive, his laughs howling through the vox as he cut his way through one traitor and pushed his way towards a duo who had grouped up with glee.

Smirking at his battle brothers tenacity, he took a page from his book and grabbed the chain blade that still hung from his slain foes waist.

"It appears you killed my brothers, corpse worshipper." Vandikus looked up from the chain blade and came face to face with the caped Night Lord he had seen not moment ago through his gun lense, still covered in blood from his half completed butchery

"Do not fear traitor, you will be joining them in hell soon enough" With this Vandikus stormed into action, his vox enhanced roar carrying through the battlefield and he allowed all his anger, his rage, his despair at what had happened to his chapter loose.

His blade was met in turn with the traitors chainblade, an black and gore covered thing with a snarling winged beasts head for a handle. The two fought on that blood stricken field, the primaris enhanced physiology clashing with the traitors millenium of experience in their long war. Vandikus had never fought such a skilled opponent, clenching his teeth as he dodged another decapitating blow.

Eventually, almost certainly, Vandikus felt himself being pushed back, forced to give ground to this traitor as time and again it managed to slip through the loyalists defences and strike him. Red runes flashed across his retina as his armour cried its dismay. The traitor managed to land a kick onto Vandikus' chest and forced him to the ground, leering down at him with a chuckle as he nudged his foot to push aside the loyalists blade.

"You were almost worth the trouble boy. Almost" Before he decapitated his foe however, Vandikus whipped his leg out lightning fast, catching the traitors knee as he moved forward and forcing him to stumble forward onto Vandikus' outstretched knife.

"You definitely were not worth the trouble traitor" Vandikus muttered as he slid his knife through the traitors cereamite chest, flipping them over so he could push the knife though the traitors body a dozen more times. Hitting every vital organ its body had and may have had in the fight before, Vandikus' letting the rage he had held at his brothers helpless situation take over, only stopping when his knife's blade broke inside the traitors throat.

All around him, his brothers finished off what remained of the traitors forces, and when their besieged brethren stormed out of the cathedral to meet them, the joy at seeing new friendly faces after so long was clear as day.

But they could not remain long, after a few moments of pleasantries and banter, they methodically looked through the battlefield, gathering up supplies and gear as quickly as they could before more arrived.

Grabbing a fire starter grenade from their stash, Vandikus primed it onto their dead brothers corpse. It was this, or let the chaos spawn desecrate it for their amusement. It pained them that they could not recover his geneseed and give him a proper funeral rites befitting a member of their beloved chapter, but for now, this would have to do.

Then, like ghosts in the night, the Formless Shadow marines faded back into the trees. Leaving behind them a field of dead traitors and butchered heretics. They all swore it would be the first of many.


End file.
